


Revenant's Blood

by Mistress_of_the_Underground



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Cancer, DIPG, M/M, Minor Character Death, Soulmates, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 19:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20031340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_of_the_Underground/pseuds/Mistress_of_the_Underground
Summary: Years have gone by as Taeyong slips from shadow to another, from night to night, followed by a bloody trail of dead bodies.That until he sees the most perfect man. He chooses to spare the beauty's life and save him from death, for reasons he can't find in himself.





	1. Prologue

Moonlight shines through the branches of trees, through the sweet cherry blossoms flowing with the night air, through the rye on the field. It lets shadows play on his tear covered face, pushes the nature's condolence through the walls he built around himself to save the pain in his heart only for himself. No one else needed to feel the agony of losing all his family, all that meant a thing to him. He is responsible and their blood sweeps to his hands. Their death is one on his conscience.

His eyes fill with tears as he crumbles to the ground. The woman he loved more than everything in this world, his only son, the sunlight of his world, both dead, buried deep underneath the land he is cursed to walk on till he burns to dust.

It should have been him, he should have been punished for the mistakes he made, they should have taken him from the world, not the one he loved the most, not force him to bleed his world to the ground. Maybe he had been punished for what he did in the most subtle of God's ways - one's own quilt. 

Knowing that there is nothing you could do but listen to the screams of your world as they fade out of life is enough to haunt him more than a lifetime, to haunt him for all the lifetimes he has to live with himself. That is his punishment. To suffer till his own blood joins them in the dirt of the ground.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. His voice breaks. His fingers dig into the dirt on the fresh grave as he cries, there is nothing he could do.

He couldn't even recognize the woman he married when he saw her again. He couldn't recognize either of them when his mind returned to him. They were white as snow, their skin thin and dry to touch. Like they would crumble to dust. Dead. Bloodless. Murdered.

He couldn't call a priest to bless their journey, he couldn't even bring peace to the soul's he robbed of life. He couldn't. 

They would burn him like a witch. They would behead him and place his head between his legs. Stuff brick in his mouth and break his jaws. They would break him inside out. They would never bury him next to his family, even if he asked.

No one would grant a wish of a monster, no one listens to a revenant.

He could never show his face again. Never feel another's touch or love. Only their hate, fear and death. He would taste it in their blood as they bleed, as night claims their bodies in fire and dirt.

"I'm sorry it went like this," he cries against the ground, threading his fingers through it for the last time till night lets him return. For now, he needs to disappear, die in the eyes of everyone so no man would be out for his head.

He stands and leaves behind everything humane he had. Now, he is a creature of the night and humanity isn't his to hold onto. The building he lived in his whole life, where his father was born and where he loved, where he had done the same till red coloured the floors and monsters came to dance waltz with death.

The night is young, younger than the blood in him. But the fire never asks, he comes and burns the world. He takes what he desires and leaves nothing behind for the others. Maybe he has become one with fire, drinks till the flesh is dry, till the heart has nothing left to push into the body. Takes everything and leaves nothing behind.

It's mere minutes before the fire takes it all. Wood falls submissive and rocks are taken apart in the heat the inferno provides.

They all died that night. Two were burned and one walked away leaving everything he had behind.

Lee Taeyong was no longer a man among the living.


	2. Chapter One

Blood. The addicting smell of it covers the town like a thin veil. It courses through abandoned streets and hides behind the corners, mixing with all the other city smells, covering its presence. But he could smell it clearly. The vampire standing in the shadows no one could find him in knows what is going on in the darkness of the night. Someone is dying, dying to become a meal for those who don't walk in sunlight anymore. Like him. With or without the smell burning in his nose trills, driving him crazy in the most subtle of ways like no other drop of blood has ever done, he would still know. He heard the screams, the threats and begging that no human would have caught in the deep night far away from everyone’s calm evenings in the loneliest parts of the town. He heard pleads for help that will never come. 

The metallic smell compels him to move forward from his hiding spot, to find the source, to taste and have it for himself without having to share it with anyone else lurking in the shadows waiting for their turn. He wants to hold the source with him and have it for breakfast, lunch and dinner for as long as the man breathes. 

He wants it so badly, but he could never have it, not truly. Humans - they want to be loved and cared for and those next to them on their journey are those they want it from. A feeling he could never share with another living being. He is unable of loving and every other humane emotion is just as far from his grasp.

Has been for centuries. Even if he could take care of the person, it wouldn’t last. They will die within an hour anyway unless someone helps them. Taeyong, he never spares anyone’s life. He isn’t going to start tonight either. He will eat his fill and leave like always.

He moves gracefully through the darkest parts of the city, his feet hitting the dirty pavement lightly, soundlessly. His foot sends an empty can flying into the darkness of the next street. A low hiss, probably from an angry stray cat, is all he hears from there and he doesn’t care enough to stop either. The animal was good enough to hiss his displeasure, they will live another day. He runs through alleys with rows of cherry blossoms surrounding them and ignores the never-ending and constant painful reminders of his blood the gentle blooms bring with themselves as they glide to his red hair and get stuck there.

He had started colouring his hair extravagant colours as soon as the dye was invented in the nineteenth century. He used to rub berries and mushrooms against the light brown strands before that. He had gone as far as shaving it all off one night in the sixteenth century. To his mortification, it had all grown back within weeks, the exact same colour he so much resented. He had decided that wigs were man’s best friend from there on. Come hair dye, he gave up his wigs, sold them online recently and got one hell of a mountain of money for it. He could burn the damn paper for warmth and not run out of it for a long long while. 

He brushes the light pink flowers off his hair and shoulders as soon as he has left all the blooming trees behind and continues on his way through the darkness that had hugged the city to its chest as soon as the sun left and took its warmth and light with it to the other side of the world.

Taeyong stops at the beginning of a narrow street - a dead end. The smell of blood is the strongest here, almost forcing his knees to buckle and swish him off his feet. Oh, how he wants something to eat. Anything. Doesn’t have to be the blood that smells like the best he has ever had the honour to catch a whiff of in the seven hundred years that he has stalked people, bleed them in their own houses and on the streets to keep himself alive.

His eyes fall onto the most beautiful creature he has ever seen - than the world has ever seen. His night coloured hair is messy and covering his forehead and one of his closed eyes. His white clothes are covered in dirt and dust. The blouse is red rather than its original colour - white. His jeans are torn as well as if he had tried to get away from the bulky man kneeling next to him running his fingers over his stomach, where the shirt has been pushed up, and over his legs. 

The beauty is actively bleeding from a quite deep stab wound in his upper stomach right under his ribs. He will die soon and no doctor would reach him in time, no matter how fast they could move themselves to arrive at the scene. Like the blood seeping out of the wound, Taeyong's need to taste the blood that lead him here is out the window. He wants to protect, to tear apart anyone approaching the beauty with thoughts of harm. That includes the man a few steps away, running his hands over pockets and the beauty's body, taking everything with any value to it and stuffing the things into his own pockets. He doesn’t shy away from just letting his hands roam the raven’s body either. He tears open the shirt that he had already pushed up and pulls it off, throwing it over his shoulder to dispose of it. His eyes never leave the boys body. 

Taeyong tries to push down the rage flaming in him. Rage, that he has never seen before. It isn't even comparable to the blood rage he spent the first century of his new life in, killing everything that had even a little blood in it. He had murdered thousands of beings for their blood only in that time span. He wasn’t hungry at all, he just wanted to kill everything that moved.

His attempts to collect himself are fruitless, the anger burns on in him, fueling on the raging monster, screaming to tear, to kill, to let the blood flow and feast upon the death around. It wants to break free and obey every command the gorgeous boy on the ground could make up.

"Leave him be!" he growls.

His voice comes from the depth of his throat. His eyes burn deep red, the colour slightly bleeding into the whites of his eyes. He is too close to losing all control he has over his inner monster who craves blood and gore. His hands shake and he wants to end the man in the cruellest of ways he can think of.

The man stands up fast, turns around like hit by lightning, eyes wide. His expression morphs into a mocking smirk and shiny eyes as soon as he sees the petite young man in front of him. On regular days Taeyong knows he might look more like an angry kitten throwing a tantrum about a ball of yarn than a man who could murder in cold blood, but today he is so angry that he might just as well kill the man for breathing alone.

The bastard eyes him up and down again, taking in his clenched fists and the anger in his eyes, before curling up in a fit of laughter as if he saw the funniest thing in the entire world. He laughs until his eyes water and he is standing there clapping his hands together like a circus’ seal. 

"Go home to your mommy, kid," he wheezes out between barks of laughter. Soon it dies down to slight breathless giggles. He fishes out a dirty napkin from one of his pockets and dries the tears running down his cheeks. He turns back towards the young man whose head is limply lolled to the side, oblivious to everything happening around him. Sleeping beauty, gorgeous like a fairytale told to the children nowadays but bleeding like the horror of the original ones.

Taeyong huffs. A kid is the last thing he is, eternally twenty-one or not, he is way older than the man mocking his power here. He runs in front of the man, successfully demanding the attention back to himself, rendering the man speechless. He stands there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish on land. No human moves at that speed. Maybe he will start feeling the fear that paralyzes now and finally realizes how deeply he fucked up by making fun of the age-old creature seething in front of him.

"I told you to leave him be," he whispers with his head cocked to the side lightly, teeth bared, fangs glowing eerily in moonlight and brows furrowed. He is no longer a harmless upset kitten. The small similarity between him and the tiny feline died the night he did. He is a monster. Nothing can change that.

He can hear the heart beating wildly in the man’s chest. The blood is so close yet so far from Taeyong’s dry throat. He can hear the way the man swallows and he can see the way his eyes dart around, stopping nowhere for more than a few seconds. He is afraid. He wipes his palms against his dirty jeans. His tongue slips out and licks the corner of his mouth. Then he turns around and bolts. Taeyong lets him run for his life for a few meters before he wraps his cold fingers around his wrist and pulls him back to face the wrath he so kindly chose to create.

"I didn't say you can leave."

The man goes pale. He is white like a sheet as he begs for his worthless life. He promises Taeyong unimaginable amount of money and valuables. He promises popularity on the streets. He “vows” to spear Taeyong’s life no matter where he goes on the streets of any Korean city. Worthless. All of it. He has enough money standing around that he could use it as a wallpaper in every single room in his home and still have some left to be burned for warmth. He could spoil a prince with things he has never seen nor had. Attention, popularity and safety. Thanks no. He values his freedom above any facility the humankind would lock him into and he needs no saving for he is the worst thing walking those streets after the night kills the day.

“Worthless, all of it. There’s nothing you could offer me but your blood that would appeal to me,” he whispers into the man's ear. He enjoys the way he shivers, the way his heart pounds in his chest so loudly. He loves his fear blown eyes and the cold sweat dripping off him. He could never live with a human - he loves scaring them, loves playing with them, giving them useless hope and have them run without having any possibility of truly escaping before he tears them apart.

The smell of blood flowing around underneath the skin so close to his lips, to his aching fangs is slowly driving him crazy. One won’t live for long when a hungry vampire - hungry and ANGRY vampire - is so close to them.

“You will die, and you have a front-row seat for the play.”

He screams. He begs. His nails scratch at Taeyong’s hands holding him still by his arms. The red welts never appear on his skin. Not before Taeyong is too close, his eyes too crazy, before the man panics and tries to get free for whatever cost - even if it means digging nails so deep into someone they bleed. Then the red welts appear on his skin. It doesn’t break and the redness disappears almost as soon as it came to be.

“Oh shut up, will you?” 

His tone is commanding, his already nonexisting patience wearing thin as the human screams and wails like a small child in the middle of the shop screams for ice cream. He sends the human flying to the ground behind himself. He doesn’t turn around. He can hear as the man shuffles backwards on the ground. He can hear the light steps and the movement of the trash can as it moves when the man grabs it for support as he gets up.

He can hear his harsh breathing and the few tentative steps he takes. The sound of movement increases in volume - he is coming closer to Taeyong. They both know that the only way out there is past the vampire but only Taeyong knows that there is no point in even trying. He won’t escape with his life anyway.

He stays with his back towards the man. Hunt is the best part of every meal. He is still a predator and the man is and will be his prey. He loves seeing what they come up with to escape from him. It is his version of entertainment. The most fun he ever has.

He tries to stay calm, to not jump at the man's throat as soon as he gets near enough to feel his heartbeat. He can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation. The blood will flow. Soon. Soon enough he will get to release the shackles on the monster and let him play.

His attempt of maintaining calm goes down the drain extremely fast. His anger bubbles over within seconds as he feels the sharp blade being stabbed right between his ribs. He feels the pain he thought he would never feel again burn in his body. The agonizing fire the silver causes brings tears to eyes that have been dry for centuries. The last time anyone thought of stabbing a vampire with silver was in the eighteenth century and even that was accidental. 

He pushes down the strangled cry fighting it’s way up his throat and jumps away from the man. The blade remains in his hand, covered in deep red blood. Taeyong feels it run down his back, surely colouring his white shirt with its darkness. Taeyong hears the droplets fall to the ground, falling into the previous buddle of blood when the hand changes position, maybe to attack again. He listens as his blood mixes with the beauty’s.

He gasps for air as silently as he possibly can, collects himself, tries to cage in his rage without any success and finally turns to face his attacker. The thin thread of control he had over the monster roaring inside breaks the minute their eyes meet.

He has enough of playing around like a small child. He tears the knife from the man's hold and sends it flying far behind himself. If it got stuck in the wall of the building there or not, Taeyong doesn't know, and he doesn’t care either. He wants the blood to flow. He wants the demons to come and dance with him.

His red eyes focus back onto the watery gaze of the man in front of him. He takes in the tears, the shaking limbs and the wandering eyes. So sweetly afraid of him. As he should.

With a low growl, he pushes his fingers through the man's skin and flesh. They slip perfectly between his ribs just under his wildly beating heart. Taeyong enjoys the way the man wails in pure agony. He curls his fingers around the bone, the tips just slightly brushing against the heart so close. He runs his gaze over the closed eyes and dirty tear streaks and he pulls. The bone breaks beneath his hand, it comes free from flesh and remains in his hand, glinting with fresh blood on it as the man stumbles away from him in horror and pain.

He smells the blood on his hands. So close, so near to his burning throat. Without realizing that he is doing this, he licks the bone in his hand clean from the blood. He dumps the bone with pieces of flesh still dangling from it and licks his lips in hunger, in anticipation for what is yet to come. He stares into the man’s eyes, wide with terror, as he licks his fingers clean. It’s been too long since he hurt someone like that, played with them to his heart's content.

Now that he has had a taste of blood, he can't just leave. He doesn’t have nearly enough self-control to walk away. The time between his feedings has stretched too far apart, becoming too dangerous for him. So close to losing all control over the monster and killing half of the town in one single night of rage. But now, he doesn't care, all he wants is to drain the man and him alone. It’s all he can think about. He no longer remembers why he is so angry with the man. He can only stare at the blood seeping out of the hole in the man’s chest and lick his lips without noticing the movement at all.

He snaps out of his trance when the man inches slowly further away from him. He still seems to think that he stands a chance to live without one of his ribs and a blood-dazed vampire in front of him.

He tries to run past him again. It gets him nowhere. Taeyong’s fingers wrap securely around his wrist. The hold is so tight that the man's hand starts to turn white, all the blood circulation cut off. Taeyong pulls him back against his chest and traps his arms with his hands. There is no way he could fight the vampire off at this point. 

Taeyong knocks the man’s head to the side with his own and finally, after a wait so long, sinks his fangs into him. He sighs at the warmth of blood flooding into his mouth, spicy, a little metallic taste exploding on his tongue in the most amazing way. He loves the way the man slowly stops struggling against his hold and falls limp against him as his own body is once again filling with blood. He is no longer warm, merely tepid as he collapses fully to the ground when Taeyong lets go of him. Dead.

He wipes off the thin trail of blood on his chin and stares at the snow coloured man in front of him. He doesn’t realize he is doing it before he goes through the pockets the man had hidden the belongings of the beauty in. He collects them all and slips the rings back onto his fingers, the earrings back into his ears. He hides everything else into his pockets. Having finished with the beauty laying dead on the street, he turns his attention back towards the other body. He drips droplets of vampire venom from the glass vial he retrieved from his pocket onto the remains and watches how it seeps into his clothes and skin. He steps past the body and takes out a match from another one of his pockets. He has grown used to the burning light of the fire. He knows how to deal with it without burning himself with his victims.

He throws the lit-up match onto the man's chest and jumps back as it goes up in flames within seconds. He throws the lonely rib into the flames as well and turns to leave. He won’t touch the beauty’s body. He deserves to be found and returned to his loved ones.

He reaches the beginning of the street he just came from, he looks around to decide which way he goes. Straight to home or around the town till the sun threatens to rise and burn him to dust. He isn't done weighing the options when he hears almost inaudible sigh behind him. 

He turns around as if he was burned, but there is no one standing behind him in the now dark street. The flames have gone out and dust doesn't sigh. He stalks back into the darkness of the dead-end and he freezes when his eyes fall back onto the beauty. He is still breathing. 

How could he not notice the almost invisible rise and fall of his chest, how could he miss the faint beating of the heart?

He is like the princess from the most beautiful fairy tale ever told. His black hair that messily clings to his forehead and to the ground around him is like an ebony-coloured halo, his skin is deathly pale, his lips are no longer red like roses or pink like cherry blossoms, but they are slowly turning to blue.

He is barely alive. Torturously bleeding out, suffering through pain that he no longer realizes is there. The buzz of fresh blood must have confused him so much that he had lost the senses to feel the faint line of life withing the boy.

Taeyong can't name the feelings creating a storm inside him. He doesn't know what it is or why it happens. He doesn't remember anything like it.

Not since his death, that is.

He can remember pieces, foggy and unclear, from the time before. When he still felt emotions that were nice. They have all been replaced by anger and sadness, neither can be drowned in alcohol nor pain. His body heals too fast, it doesn’t even let him get drunk, no matter how much he drinks. There is no longer a way for him to get rid of them.

But when he looks at the closed eyes of the most gorgeous being he has seen, he can't help himself. He wants to see his smile, wants to see his eyes. He desperately wants to see him in his happiness, but miraculously so craves he for his sadness.

Never before in his immortal life has he wanted to wrap someone up in a hug and fulfil their every wish, to obey their every command like the most loyal puppy. He has never wanted to make someone happy like that.

He can't. No matter what he wants, it is something he could never have. He can't keep those he loves safe for he is the biggest danger to them in the first place. He could never see him smile to him for he is unable of being someone's happiness and sunshine. All he knows is how to be their biggest fear and the terror that keeps them up at night.

Without noticing that he is doing something instead of standing as still as he stood before, he finds himself on his knees, his fingers wrapping tenderly around the boy's wrist, lifting up his hand and holding it gingerly against his chest.

His eyes never leave the young man's face, unconsciously admiring him, holding his hand tightly against himself, not even realizing how gentle he is with the beauty. How carefully he handles the boy, as if afraid of breaking him.

A barely audible sigh that leaves the boys lips brings Taeyong back to the world of the living, but not entirely. The vampire is still wooed by him, not fully breaking out of his trance, but he gets rid of it enough to know that unless a miracle happens or he does something, the boy will die. And within minutes.

He knows he shouldn't under no circumstances even consider the ideas dancing around his mind. He can't help it. The man. He is younger than Taeyong when he died. He has never cared for it, he didn't care who he killed as long as they weren't children. He couldn't raise his hand against someone when all he saw was his own son. His own dead son stared back at him from every child he saw.

It is his only choice if the boy ever wants to see the sunlight again. He has been robbed of it. He didn't give it any consent. He has never bothered with it. He is a monster. There is nothing that actually matters to him. He didn't want to take things away from him. He has no idea why he feels like that. The beauty, he deserves better than cold lonely death on a street.  
Taeyong doesn’t let his deeds register in his mind before his fangs sink into his own wrist and he lets the blood flow out of him onto his lips. He lets it flow into the boy’s mouth. He can hear the way his heartbeat gets stronger. He can hear how his breathing starts to become more audible. He stares at the way his skin starts to get back its colour, how his lips turn back to the light red, like the most beautiful flowers. He can see how the blood heals the wound in his stomach. He knows that he broke his own rule. He promised to never take someone back from death, but he doesn’t even care enough to worry.

When he sees the boy's eyes start to flutter, he pulls away his wrist from his lips and lets the wound heal. Before he can stand up, the most beautiful eyes look into his. The colour of melted chocolate. The warmth in them. Taeyong doesn’t let his mind stray to the path it wants to take. Instead, he stands and flees. The boy can’t remember him. He never should have seen him. Yet, Taeyong was too weak to leave when he was supposed to. He stayed too long, stayed to make sure he was alright when it shouldn’t faze him in the first place.

He knows he can never forget the eyes of the most beautiful creature world has created.


	3. Chapter Two

His deep brown eyes blink open lazily. The dark fog that guarded his senses reduces into nothingness and is exchanged for its light counterpart. He is confused and everything around him is covered in thick heavy fog just as it had been hours ago. No line is clear or sharp enough for him to even think about what is going on. No sound is heard that could give him any information. Nothing makes sense. No matter how hard he tries to fight off the blurriness, the silence, they remain for multiple minutes more. For a moment he is sure that this is how it is going to be, that today won’t be the day that his eye muscles listen to the orders his brain sprouts out. That today is one of those days when only silence stays wrapped around him and no matter how loud anyone screams he won’t hear anything.

After all, that’s what they had done a while ago, the reason he even went anywhere. He wouldn’t have gone to Kun if he didn’t have trouble with his senses and getting around thanks to that. When his surroundings finally become clear, finally come to focus, all he can see are the most gem-like beautiful red eyes he has ever seen in his whole life. All he can feel is the wonder. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw something as clearly as he is seeing the eyes in front of him. Clear like stars in a winter night when no other light lits up the crystals in the snow. Lighting fire wherever their gaze stops. Doing the same to Ten’s mind.

He has seen the magic that contacts spell out of everyone, even in his own mirror on days he can see everything clear as day, but never before has he seen eyes so crimson, so clear. No matter how much power contacts have, none of them ever make eyes look so deep in colour, this shade of rich red, they look so unbelievably clear, so real. Like crystals, like the most carefully cut rubies littering the most expensive of jewellery. Like the deep red roses burying the most beautiful garden underneath the wave of their blooms. Like blood, the soft blush of it flowing under the skin as a tender touch of care. So deep, as if they are naturally meant to be fiery red. As if they had never been another colour, like nothing but the setting sun staring back from the mirror, the deep colour of cherries peeking between the long and dark lashes. As if they are meant to be the deep, passionate colour of red. Meant to catch the attention, to scream of royal blood. Like the ruler of all above the ground. Ten knows that it makes no sense, none of it does, but it is all he can think of, gazing deep into them. His whole attention is just caught and bound by the eyes. 

Oh, how he wishes he could stare at his face as he has stared into his eyes. If the redness of them is so deeply captivating, then so must be the rest of him. He couldn’t focus on his expression, his eyes always taking a little time before coming to focus again, but this time it costs him the man’s face. He is gone, no longer there for Ten to admire, to see his full beauty, to seek his comfort and calm that the eyes had pushed so deep into him. Too soon to be possible, they are gone, leaving behind the empty skies and hopeless wishes, all he can see is just the dark, star-filled sky above him, mocking him for not seeing him.   
The red eyes have disappeared into the darkness. Without realizing it, he mourns the loss of them, the feeling of losing something he hasn’t even had burning deep inside his soul. They disappear into thin air and so do the feelings they brought. They only leave coldness and fear behind, like the strangest mirage in the middle of Seoul's empty streets. 

He struggles to get up onto his elbows as fast as his body starts to listen to his frantic brain screaming commands left and right, hoping to even see the back of the mysterious man. His hairstyle or colour or even just his height and built. Anything that could help him find him again. But the street is empty besides Ten himself in the furthest of its corners. No matter how many times he looks around in the dark alleyway, no matter how many times he blinks, thinking that maybe his sight is failing him again, all he can see is his own blood-covered white shirt laying on the dirty ground a few feet away from him, completely torn to shreds. There is a pile of dust even further, that is shaped very weirdly, almost like a human, but that couldn’t be true. No fire willed into existence on a street would be able to burn a body to dust, consume it till nothing else is left, so Ten brushes the thought out of his mind and lets his eyes glide over the rest of the street, but no one is there to be seen. Not even the man who had attacked him and stabbed him for his valuables when all he had on him were a few rings with fake jewels and cheap earrings he had bought from a shop near his apartment. 

He remembers the pain of the knife that burned his stomach and tore him apart and he remembers the hands running all over him, groping and touching where they should have never been. He remembers the rough way he tore the rings from his fingers, pulling some of his joints from their sockets. Ten had been sure that some of the bones had broken as well from the treatment they faced. But now, now he can feel the rings on his fingers, that can all move freely without any pain shooting through his body, there are rings in his ears. The only thing reminding him that anything even happened and it wasn’t just a feverish dream, was his bloody and torn shirt. There is too much blood on it for it to be just from a small cut or a scratch unless someone else's, but his memories say otherwise.

He glides his hand over the place where he remembers the burn of the cold blade, there is no blood, no holes in him. All that there is, is a faint line. A little uneven pale line - a scar where there should be bleeding, gaping hole, demonstrating his insides for the whole wide world to see. It makes no sense for it is impossible, but something has healed him to almost a perfect physical state. His whole body feels stronger than it has since the diagnose. It must have been something magical. It couldn't have been human, maybe the man with the crimson eyes wasn’t a human, maybe he did it? Nothing could have gotten him out of there with only a faint scar that makes it look as if a decade or more has passed since the incident when it couldn't be more than a few hours.

He has no idea what the man was, but there is no way that he could’ve been a human, how could someone do this when only fairytales dare to speak of magic strong enough to heal someone? When only old myths and legends dare to utter the names of monsters that could yield such powers. So maybe, maybe the pile of dust is his attacker, the man with the gorgeous eyes already ignored one of nature's laws in case he did save his life, it really is the only option in Ten’s eyes. So what says he couldn’t have done it twice or even more than that if rules don’t apply to him as they do to the rest of the world’s population. His whole existence might as well be ignoring the world order and dance on the borders of fantasy and reality, dip from one side to the other and playfully jump back again when one of the sides grabs a hold too tight.

The more he thinks about it, the deeper the mind-crushing panic settles into his soul. He has no idea what has happened to him this evening. No idea what to believe and what is the truth. Which of his thoughts are lies, which just pure fiction his mind has made up? Is he actually dreaming and he never really left the comfort of his room after he called Kun? There are too many questions and no answers to be found. He needs someone. Unexplainable fear courses through him as he stares around the darkness around him, shadows loom over him. The flickering street lamp near the street corner loses all power and everything tumbles into darkness. Ten can no longer tell anything near him apart from the shadows, he wants to go home, wants to disappear. Fear doesn’t let him fully get up onto his feet though. He fumbles around with the pockets of his jeans, patting down on all of them before he finally feels where the phone is. His fingers shake as he fishes it out. The bright light blinds him. His eyes burn at the brightness, they are just so sensitive, they water. In a strange, turned away from his face, matter, he searches for Kun’s contact, praying to everything he knows to find it fast. Hopefully, the man isn’t too busy when Ten needs him the most.

The phone rings and rings, but Kun isn’t answering it. The tone of it keeps ringing in his ears, obnoxiously loud without any answer from the other man. Time passes and with each ring, Ten’s heart feels heavier. He is scared that he will have to walk in the city buried into the night air when everyone and everything dangerous roams the streets looking for someone innocent to prey upon. He has been attacked once already before the time when most horrible things even happen, nothing promises a re-run of tonight's events more than walking home in the state he is in does. 

Then Kun picks up his phone, his voice is laced with worry. He is panting slightly as if he ran to his phone when he heard it ringing. Ten wants to cry in relief, sob out his happiness and more than anything he wants to hug Kun the hardest he ever has. He isn’t alone anymore, not fully at least. Kun is there for him. He is there. Everything will be alright. Nothing else will go wrong, not anymore.

“Can you come and get me?” he whispers to the phone. His voice is rough from the screaming he did most likely when he had been first attacked.

He never thought his night will end like that. He had promised Kun that he will stay safe when he left his apartment to go visit the older. He had taken the train as usual, but he missed his regular bus and had been left with his feet as his only way of transportation to get to Kun's. It cost him a scar, memory of the most beautiful eyes and fear he can’t seem to shake off no matter how hard he tries.

“Where are you? What happened?” Kun’s voice portrays his feelings quite well. Panic so prominent in his words. Worry coming off of him in waves. Ten can imagine the face he must be having very well. He has seen it enough times to know what it looks like even in his sleep.

“I got attacked,” he tells the other, before continuing and telling him everything he knows or believes to know at least. 

He can hear the way Kun storms around his apartment. He swears under his breath softly when he drops his keys. Ten hears him bang his door shut and running down the stairs. He isn't sure if Kun locked the door or not for he had gotten scared by a homeless cat that ran along the main street. He almost dropped his phone before he got back the control over it. He turns his attention back to Kun.

“Stay where you are, I’ll come and get you.”

The call ends. The loud beep rings in his ears for a while afterwards. All that is left to do for Ten is to hold his phone close to his chest and hope that it won't take long for Kun to arrive and be a knight in shining armour, saving him from the mythical dragon keeping him hostage.

He doesn't know how long he waits. He doesn't dare to look at the clock that silently ticks as seconds escape, he doesn't want to know how long he has sat and shivered here in the middle of an empty street, jumping at every little sound. At one point another cat hops up onto a dumpster and stares at him for a long moment before it curls up and proceeds to watch him with its nose hidden in the fur of its tail.

He gets to his feet carefully when he sees Kun’s black car arrive at the start of the street. He feels like his heart might burst from the surge of happiness that takes over him as soon as he sees the other. The worried man runs out of the car and straight at Ten, his arms wrap around his waist, he holds him close, in a tight hug. Kun just stands there, holding him close, breathing in his scent, calming himself and Ten, whispering against his skin. Ten's arms are tightly wrapped around Kun's neck. He feels safe for now when he just stands there in the other's arms.

Having stood there for multiple quiet moments, Kun let’s go of him, only to take gentle hold of his hand to lead him towards the car awaiting their arrival. The car is warm. Ten feels safe enough to curl up on the passenger's seat and close his eyes. Kun will wake him when they arrive. 

For now, Ten can forget everything that happened and let his best friend play a mother hen until Kun is satisfied enough with the results of his care. The discussion can wait until Doyoung and Johnny join them tomorrow for lunch.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning.
> 
> Ten is ill, the symptoms are real, but some of the things about the way the illness works have been changed. That is changed for the sake of the story. I wish to let everyone know that it isn't done to belittle anyone's hard battles with illnesses that they have little hope to get rid of. I admire all of you who still keep going even if everything feels hopeless. Stay strong <3
> 
> All feedback is always welcomed so I can improve my writing.

Ten has spent the whole morning thinking about last night, and no matter how much he wonders he can’t shake the feeling of the importance of the red eyes he saw out of his mind. What if it was a sign about something? The end of the world maybe? Or maybe that he is about to die? Although, if it was a sign that he was about to die, wouldn’t he be dead on the streets already?

Although, what if it is a positive sign and he would get better? No, he shouldn’t have meaningless hopes dance around in his head. He’ll never be free of his illness and he knows that very well. He will never grow old nor will he ever have a partner to love just because every time he mentions his illness to possible boyfriends or girlfriends they leave him. Either because he is not worthy, or they don’t want to “get hurt” when he inevitably dies in his twenties.

“Could you please stop pacing around like a tiger in a cage, go out for a walk if you can’t sit still for like 20 seconds.”

There is no serious fire or bite in Kun’s voice or eyes as he stares at Ten with his fake I-am-so-disappointed-in-you-child-gaze. 

Ten returns the look just as dirtily. And keeps on pacing just to drive Kun crazy for a little while longer. Johnny and Doyoung would arrive soon anyway so there isn’t much time when he can do that.

His back is facing towards Kun when something hits his nape. He turns around as if burned, just to be hit with a piece of popcorn right between his eyes. 

“Did you just throw popcorn at me!?”

“You wouldn’t stay still.”

Kun is grinning like a maniac at Ten, his eyes almost disappearing as he smiles towards the other. And throws another piece of popcorn towards the shorter male.

“But you froze now, so it worked just fine”

Ten gasps as if Kun just insulted ten generations of his ancestors in nine words. He picks up one of the pieces that fell on the floor and throws it back at Kun’s face. 

“I’ll let you know, that it did not work!”

Kun throws another piece at the other for how dares he return the “favour” of bullying him with popcorn war.

They keep going with their little war, deep in the bubble of their own world - stopped by Johnny who steps between them and accidentally gets hit with popcorn from both sides.

“Enough, children!” 

Kun and Ten both look like fish on land with the outrageous looks on their face. A moment of quietness passes as they collect themselves before they are arguing over each other with Johnny about being anything but children.

One pointed look from Johnny towards the floor that is covered in pieces of popcorn is all it takes to shut them up. Ten still glaring at Kun with mock offence and Kun looking every bit embarrassed that he is. 

“Clean up the mess and come join us for lunch”

At Johnny’s order, Ten flares up again like an angry kitten. 

“I didn’t start it” 

Kun looks at Johnny as if Ten himself started the war, refusing every attempt of ending it that Kun “made” and is now pushing all the blame over to Kun like a disobedient child. 

“I was addressing both of you!” 

With a hidden smile, Johnny leaves the living room area to go to the kitchen to set up their lunch that is still steaming on the stove after Kun finished it, possibly a long time before the war of popcorn and torn prides even started. He can hear two rooms over as Kun and Ten grumble about having to clean up. 

“Children, both of them, and only Ten has the right.” 

Doyoung continues to curse the “children” as he sets the table. But the smile on his face betrays him easily. He doesn't actually really mind their mock battles.

The two culprits appear to the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn, that has all been all over the floor at some point. For more than five seconds. Kun sets the bowl down on the counter and trots to the table to help Johnny and Doyoung with anything that they haven’t yet managed to do on their own.

There isn’t much he could do there, to be honest, so just sitting down is all there is left to do. The others had set all the plates and cutlery needed onto the table and even served the food bowls to the middle of the table. Seems like it really did take quite a while to clean up their mess.

While the others find their seats behind the table, Ten disappears into the thin air again. 

“Ten, drag yourself back here and tell us what happened yesterday as you promised!”

Doyoung covers his ears as Kun screams right next to him.

“Shut it!”

Johnny sighs and hides his head between his hands as the “children” create chaos and scream like banshees all around the house. Looking at Ten, it looks as if he wasn’t laying “dead” on a street less than 24 hours ago. To be honest, Ten has never looked better since his diagnose. 

Ten appears back to the kitchen again and takes a seat next to Kun, messing up his hair as he goes. It almost starts another war. Luckily with "almost" as the key-word. Johnny manages to stop it before it starts by distracting Kun with food-related questions.

Listening to Kun go on for a long time about food and cooking is adorable and the perfect way to distract him from Ten for long enough to keep a war from happening.

The food disappears as if to thin air quite fast. Even Ten agrees that it was delicious. Though the compliment doesn’t come without teasing Kun for it, but that is as regular as it gets. And Kun is too proud about the compliments to mind Ten's teasing. Johnny doesn't have to worry about another war for a bit now at least. How these two manage to call themselves best friends, damn they manage to live together with no blood drawn when Ten isn't feeling that well. Johnny will never know that.

Though Ten manages to mention something to Kun silently that makes him flare up again. 

Before their argument can start up again, Doyoung interrupts them with a low cough. The narrow look he sends towards Ten shuts the younger male up - for now. Kun calms as well.

“Why don’t you tell us about your evening?” he asks instead of commenting about Ten and Kun’s cat and mouse like relationship that for some reason works better than a lot of other friendships he has seen do. He can give all the comments he wants to later as well, there are more interesting things to waste sociable energy on.

Ten recites the whole story as clearly as he can remember. Doyoung’s eyebrow stays raised as Ten rants almost three minutes straight about the mysterious man’s eyes only before continuing about his disappearance and finishing with voicing his rock solid idea to go and find the man.

“You do know, that he is probably a vampire and could drink you dry under a minute, right?”

Johnny’s question that was meant to convince Ten to shut up and decide that his idea wasn’t worth it. By the look on Ten’s face, it was everything but doing what it was supposed to do. The glint in his eyes only intensified. Johnny sighs. He just hopes that Ten’s idiocy won’t get him killed sooner than he already has to go.

“Besides entertaining bloodsucking creatures at night, how are you doing?”

Doyoung’s question was something that Johnny had wondered about. Ten looks… healthy. He doesn’t look as pale or as tired as he usually does. None of them have had to start writing things because he can’t hear them. He hasn’t walked into any of the walls. He looks okay.

“I’ve never been better, for real!”

It is nice to see Ten so happy, almost jumping in his seat like a giggly kid. He hasn’t been that happy in a while. Having DIPG kind of ruins that fun. 

“No episodes?” Kun wonders out loud what they all have been thinking.

Ten shakes his head and smiles. He has never before felt better to be in his body since his death date was written onto the certificate, figuratively speaking.

Maybe bloodsucking bastards in the middle of the night do indeed have a few good bones in their body.


End file.
